


Undead (June 3rd Unforgettable Series)

by JDSampson



Series: 'UN'forgettable Moments [2]
Category: Project Blue Book (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Vampires, Wacky World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 07:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19080697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDSampson/pseuds/JDSampson
Summary: If Quinn and Hynek thought aliens were strange, wait until they see what this doctor is hiding in his basement.*Note: this is part of my "un" series but gave it it's own space because of the crossover and a potential followup.





	Undead (June 3rd Unforgettable Series)

June 3: Undead

 

“Doctor Hynek! What happened?”

Allen couldn’t see himself, but he hurt all over and could tell there was at least one abrasion on his face to go with the scrapes on his hands and knee (as seen through the hole in his pant leg).

“Wasn’t watching where I was going, Doctor Whitmore. Took a tumble on the sidewalk.”

“Kid on a bicycle clipped him as he got out of the car. Captain Michael Quinn.” Quinn held out his hand for the other man to shake. The shake came along with the strangest look, but he put it off to Blue Book paranoia and let it go.

“Nice to meet you both in person finally. I’m so sorry for the rough beginning. I’ll get you some antiseptic for those scrapes, but please come into my study and relax.”  Whitmore led them into a large room filled with heavy, antique furniture including an ornate couch, coffee table and side chairs. “Blustery day to top it off. Can I offer you both a drink? Scotch alright?” The doctor when behind a bar and began fussing with bottles and glasses.

“Scotch is fine,” said Allen.

“For me as well,” said Quinn.

“Professor McAllister can’t say enough good things about you Doctor Hynek,” Whitmore continued as he poured. “Said you had an open mind and an eye on the future. That’s why I thought we should meet. You strike me as the kind of man who would not only understand but truly appreciate my work.”

“McAllister said something about a breakthrough in medicine. Truly revolutionary, he called it but wouldn’t elaborate.”

“I’ve warned him not to say too much.” Doctor Whitmore walked over to the couch, handed them both their drinks then took a seat on a large, overstuffed chair that resembled a throne. “There are people out there – even learned men – who don’t understand the sacrifices we must make in the name of science.”

“Sacrifices?” Quinn repeated. The word was bothersome as was the doctor’s attitude – not to mention the perplexing look on his face every time he glanced Quinn’s way.

“All through the ages, scientists have had to push the boundaries, often crossing over what others would consider to be moral or ethical lines. But many of the procedures and medicines we now use to cure people came at a high cost.”

Quinn definitely didn’t like where this was going. He glanced at Allen for confirmation that he wasn’t alone in this and saw the craziest thing. The cut on his face was gone. A blink of an eye and the bruise was gone, too. Quinn grabbed Allen’s wrist and turned his palm upward. Dirty but not a sign of the abrasions that had been there just minutes before.

“What the hell?”

“Incredible, isn’t it?”

Allen Hynek examined is own hands and his formerly skinned knee. Not a scratch on him. “This is impossible.”

“This is my great breakthrough.” Doctor Whitmore lit up with what Quinn would describe as fiendish delight. “I took the liberty of putting my elixir into your drink, Doctor Hynek. I knew the best way to convince you was to demonstrate its power. I’m sorry I had to injure you first, but I think you’ll agree it made for an impressive show.”

“Show?” Quinn was ready to walk. “That bicyclist—”

“Was paid a few dollars for his part. But as you can see, no harm done. I assure you, Doctor. There will be no ill effects. All of your aches and pains, even the ones you brought with you before the spill are gone.”

“This is impossible,” Allen said again then sniffed at the remaining liquid in his glass. “If you have such an amazing cure-all, why aren’t you working in a hospital, curing people as we speak?”

“Because the base element I require to make the elixir is in short supply. I’ve spent the last five years attempting to synthesize it. I’ve broken it down into its elements and studied it in every possible way, but I’ve been unable to produce large quantities. That’s why I’ve had to keep it secret, only using it on the chosen few. If it were to get out that I had such an ability, people would be banging down my door. People who would climb over each other to be first in line. They’d do more harm than the elixir does good. That’s why I asked you here. With your mind, your foresight, I thought you might help me get over this enormous hurtle so that the world can benefit from what I’ve discovered.”

“What have you discovered?” asked Quinn. “What is this rare, base material? Gold?”

“Something a bit more difficult to handle. A very dangerous element.”

“Radiation,” said Allen, abruptly setting his glass on the table and pushing it as far away as it could go.

“No. The drink is perfectly safe. Come with me and be prepared to see things you’ve never dreamt of in your reality.”

Quinn nudged Allen and gave him his best ‘what the hell’ look. Allen shrugged back. Not like they hadn’t seen their share of weird in the past couple of years, but this guy was sincerely wigging Quinn out.

They stood up and followed Whitmore, out of the room, down a set of stairs and into a dungeon. An actual, bars set in stone, cold, damp and dark dungeon. There were two cells. Only one of which was occupied.

“Damon. Say hello to our visitors.”

The young man was laying on the floor as there wasn’t a stick of furniture in the cell. He rolled to his feet like a lethargic cat then swung around to drape his arms over the bars. “Hello visitors. Come to see the horror show? It’s not for the faint of heart.” He shifted to the left and pressed his face to the space between the bars as if trying to get a better look at the folks in the shadows.

“You’re experimenting on prisoners,” Quinn said, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice.

“I’m experimenting on a creature that would kill you where you stand and not feel a drop of remorse for doing it. Allow me to demonstrate. Stay close to the wall.” Whitmore opened a cabinet and took out a bottle of dark liquid and a cup. He poured the thick syrup into the cup and as he did Damon began to twitch. His breathing became short and clipped and dark veins appeared on his face as if his skin was cracking.

Whitmore stepped closer to the bars and the creature on the other side inhaled the scent of the stuff in the cup. Then his eyes went wide, and his mouth opened to reveal a set of fangs.

Quinn and Hynek both stumbled back as far as the small space would allow.

Damon grabbed the cup. His hand came in contact with Whitmore’s arm for only an instant and he reacted as if he’d put his hand in a fire. The cup fell to the floor, the liquid rivering over the stone and toward the cell.

The creature (for that was what he had fully become) stretched his arm out between the bars and dipped his fingers in the liquid.

Blood. It was blood.

With a look that was both lascivious and frightening, the creature licked the blood from his fingers and his features slowly returned to normal.

“What the hell is that?” Quinn stepped forward and into the light for a brief moment before Whitmore warned him back.

In that moment, the creature who was Damon again when wide-eyed in a different way. “Who the hell is that?” He countered.

And again Quinn felt the hair-raising, tingling swell of paranoia.

“Vampire,” said Whitmore, answering Quinn’s question.

“Wait.” Quinn ran his hands over his eyes like that might help clear things up. “Vampires are real?”

 

“They are indeed. Very much like the ones you’ve seen in the movies with a few exceptions. They’re very strong. Very attuned in their senses and their blood has the power to heal.”

Allen’s hand flew to his throat. “That’s what you put in my drink? Vampire blood?”

“Yes. The alcohol helps cut the smell and the musky flavor. Makes it quite easy to get down. But now you can see my problem. If I drain too much of their blood too fast, they die. They become permanent husks. So, I either have to find a lot more vampires or I have to find out what it is that makes their blood special so I can recreate it synthetically.”

“How many vampires do you have?” Allen asked and Quinn thought that had to be the weirdest question he’d ever heard Hynek ask in all seriousness.

“Only two.”

“Speaking of which,” said Damon. “What have you done to Enzo? I haven’t heard a sound from him since you took him this morning.” He turned as much as he could to Quinn and Hynek. “Usually, there’s about three hours of painful screaming with a little begging for mercy thrown in for good measure.”

“Is that the sacrifices and line crossing you mentioned earlier?” said Quinn.

“Really, Captain. Have you ever heard the sound a lamb makes before being slaughtered? A cow? And yet you have no trouble sitting down to a hearty steak, do you? And though you tell yourself it’s not, that ooze coming out of a rare hamburger is blood. So, don’t get high and mighty me just yet. 21051 and 12144 are nothing more than lab animals. They may walk and talk like it, but they’re not human. They are animals. My work with them, though it may seem harsh, will save lives. A child crushed in car accident will be back at school the next day. Great minds will live on because their bodies will not crumble. Imagine if Lincoln’s doctor had my elixir on hand after Booth took that shot.”

Whitmore turned to fully face Quinn. “Imagine all the men you saw bleeding out on the battlefield making it home to their loved ones with just a single dose.”

Behind him Damon snorted and pulled Quinn’s eye. Whitmore moved to block him.

“Let me show you the rest of my work.”

Whitmore led the way out of the cell block. The last thing Quinn heard as the door closed behind him was Damon mooing like a cow.

“This isn’t right,” Quinn whispered to Hynek as they followed the other doctor down the hall.

“I don’t know,” said Allen. “Look at my hands. Cuts and scrapes gone in seconds. It’s a miracle.”

“Or he put something a little more chemical into both of our drinks. Either that or one of us is having the freakiest dream.”

“You’re ready to believe that extraterrestrial lifeforms have been visiting our planet, but you can’t believe in vampires?”

“Good point, but still. . . “

Whitmore cut off further discussion when he ushered them into his lab. There was a long set of cabinets with shelves above down one side of the room. The shelves were packed with all sizes of bottles and jars. There were several medical carts with instruments surrounding two gurneys. One was empty. One wasn’t.

Enzo, Quinn presumed.

The young man was strapped down to the table with thick bands over his legs, hips, wrists and shoulders. Vampire or not, it was barbaric. Quinn stepped closer and got the third shock of the day.

“Is there a resemblance or is it me. . . “ Allen said.

“Ah genetics,” said Whitmore. “It’s quite fascinating the traits that are handed down from generation to generation. Eye color, hair color, shape of the nose, the chin, sometimes skipping entire generations only to show up in the next.”

The man on the table opened his eyes and examined Quinn in the same way Quinn was examining him. “What an odd looking mirror.” A distinctly British accent. “Don’t tell me that you’re a St. John.”

Quinn stepped back and back until he bumped into a cart which rolled and hit another. “That’s my mother’s maiden name. Her great grandmother came over from England. You’re not saying. . . he can’t be.”

“Related, yes.” Whitmore stepped up beside the gurney almost absently checking Enzo’s pulse and pupils. “What year were you born, Enzo?”

“1876. Never married so I can’t be your great, great grandfather but I could be a spectacular uncle or a cousin.” His words turned into a gasp thanks to Whitmore’s probing fingers around his stomach. “Come look at this Doctor Hynek, you’ll find it fascinating.”

Hynek approached the table while Quinn kept his distance. This had to be some crazy nightmare.

“Earlier this morning, I removed a 4-inch section of his upper intestinal track. The piece I removed is dead tissue now but if I cut him open, I think you’ll find that his intestines have grown back. Let me show you.” He reached for a scalpel but Hynek stopped him.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“This is the first step to human organ transplants. Think of the possibilities. I’m so close to figuring out how their bodies regenerate, how their blood works. All I need is a comparison sample. Blood that’s similar but still pure.”

Enzo laughed and turned his head toward Quinn. “Better run now, nephew while you still can.”

“Hynek, have you read Erwin Chargaff’s work on the DNA structures of different species? If I can compare Captain Quinn’s DNA to that of his ancestor, I should be able to isolate the factors that make Enzo a vampire.”

“Saw that coming,” said Enzo. “Still time to run.”

“Stop that,” Hynek said to Enzo and Quinn continued to fall down the rabbit hole. Alice and the Red Queen should be along any minute now.

“He’s. .,” Allen switched pronoun. “It’s. . .making this sound worse than it is. All Doctor Whitmore needs is a sample of your blood. You’ve given blood before. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” Quinn shot back. “Doc, have you looked around this room. Did you not hear the vampire talking about torture? The mad scientist talking about cutting out pieces of this man’s intestines.”

“Go get’em, tiger,” said Enzo.

Quinn reached into his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter.

“Please don’t smoke in here,” Whitmore snapped.

“In this room, you’re only allowed to smoke when you’re actually on fire.” Enzo.

Whitmore grabbed a scalpel from the cart and sliced a four-inch gash in Enzo’s stomach. A horrible sound rose in the vampire’s throat as he convulsed and twisted as much as his bonds would allow.

“What are you doing?” Hynek pushed Whitmore away from the table, then pushed again to get him to the other side of the room.

“It’s nothing to him, he’ll heal in minutes.”

Hynek grabbed Whitmore by the arm and pulled him out into the hall where the two began to speak in whispers.

“They’re talking about you, mate.” Enzo nodded for Quinn to come closer. “Super sensitive vampire hearing.” He said softly. “Whitmore is giving your friend the ‘for the good of all mankind speech’ and sorry to break it to you, but your friend is agreeing with him. Take a number: 21052 is available.”

“This isn’t real.” Quinn stepped up to the table and looked down into the face that was so like his own. Enzo’s face was rounder, hair longer but the eyes, the nose. Like looking at a younger version of himself, the man he had been at the start of the war.

“Look at me,” Enzo said barely making a sound with his words. “My eyes. Your eyes.”

And suddenly Quinn couldn’t look away. It was similar to what he’d felt in the car in Lubbock and in the air over Washington. Alert, aware but with no control over his own body.

“Undo the restraints. Quickly.”

To do or not to do? It wasn’t even a question. He unbuckled the shoulder strap, then the hips and hands and finally the straps over Enzo’s ankles.

“That’s a good boy,” Enzo purred as he sat up. “Now, just one more thing.” He hopped down from the bed and his knees gave out. Quinn grabbed him under the arms and their eyes met. At first Quinn saw a gleam of gratitude but that shifted to something sad. “Sorry, mate, no choice.”

Enzo bared his fangs and sunk them deep into Quinn’s throat.

 

The combination of human cries and a nightmare sound he couldn’t identify pulled Allen back into the lab. Enzo was free and he had Quinn in his clutches, face buried in Quinn’s neck.

“Damn it!” Whitmore ran past Allen to get a syringe from a cabinet. Allen ran to Quinn but couldn’t even begin to figure out what he should do to stop this attack. Luckily, that was taken out of his hands when Whitmore jabbed the syringe into the vampire’s neck.

Enzo instantly let go. Quinn tumbled back into Allen’s arms while Whitmore guided the woozy vampire back to the bed.

“Vervain,” Whitmore said as he helped Quinn on to the other gurney. “It’s the only weapon we have against the vampires. It weakens them when injected into their bloodstream, but it doesn’t last, so strap him back down.”

Allen didn’t hear most of that because he couldn’t get past the blood oozing wound in Quinn’s throat. “Help him!”

“I will,” Whitmore said calmly as he pulled a cart of instruments closer to Quinn’s bedside. “Strap Enzo down, Doctor or we’ll all be facing the same fate.”

“Not in a hurry to save your friend, is he?” Enzo said, words slurring as if drunk.

Allen replaced the straps and when he turned back, he saw Doctor Whitmore drawing blood from Quinn’s arm. “What are you doing? He’s bleeding to death and you’re taking more blood!” Allen moved to stop him but was pushed away.

“I need a clean specimen from him, blood that hasn’t been tainted with vampire saliva.”

“Or blood,” Allen said, thinking out loud. “You can give him Enzo’s blood. Right? He’ll heal right away just like I did. Right? Even with a wound this bad?”

“Doc, no.” Quinn tried to roll to his side, probably to stand but Whitmore pushed him flat easily.

“In a minute. I just need to collect a few more samples from him. Once he ingests the vampire blood, he’ll be contaminated, and it will be much harder to verify the validity of my work.”

“Your work? He’s going to die!” Desperate times. Desperate measures. Allen grabbed a scalpel from the instrument tray and a glass, widemouthed beaker. He slit open Enzo’s wrist and impatiently watched the blood drip into the jar. How much did he need? He guessed there had only been less than an ounce in the drink he’d downed earlier but his injuries had been minor. Did you need more to counter the effects of a life-threatening injury or was a drop a drop?”

“You’re going to need more than that,” Enzo said as if reading his mind.

“Don’t look into his eyes,” Whitmore shot back as he continued to collect and swab and seriously, did he have a scalpel in his hands?! “He can control your mind if you look into his eyes. It’s called compulsion. He obviously compelled Quinn to let him loose. My fault. Everyone around here wears Vervain so we can’t be compelled but it’s so commonplace I forget about it. Didn’t even think of arming you both when you came into the lab. Stupid mistake and now I have to rush.”

Enzo turned his head toward the other gurney. “Welcome to the family, nephew.”

Allen followed his gaze and saw Whitmore strapping Quinn down to the table.

“What are you doing?”

“He’s moving around too much, and I just need to make a few, small incisions.”

Quinn cried out in pain.

“Stop it!” Allen was losing his mind. Enough or not enough, he had to chance it as the wound on Enzo’s arm was closing on its own.

He waited for Whitmore to lift the scalpel away from skin then kicked the rolling stool the man was sitting on throwing him off balance. Allen slipped his hand under Quinn’s neck and touched the beaker to his lips.

“No!” Quinn fought it, trying to turn his head away, trying to keep his lips closed.

“I’m not going to let you die! Drink it.” He used the rim of the glass to force Quinn’s lips open then poured every bit of the blood into his mouth. It was surreal and disgusting and wilder than any nightmare he’d ever lived through in his dreams. “Is this going to work, Doctor?”

“Yes, he’ll be fine.” Whitmore replied with a blasé tone that made Allen want to punch him.

When the beaker was empty, Allen wiped the streaks of blood from Quinn’s mouth then tended to the neck wound with the gauze and cotton he found on the surgical cart.

Whitmore couldn’t have cared less. He was busy labeling vials of blood – Quinn’s blood and preparing sample slides. “If this turns out to the be the key to my research, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

The man stood up and grabbed Allen by the jacket, it was so unexpected he didn’t even have a thought about fighting back and then he was looking into the face of the young vampire.

“Listening to my voice now. Relax.” Enzo.

Allen relaxed and Whitmore let go.

“Everything is just dandy. You’re going to do whatever I say, or the doctor says until you leave this place. Right? Now, hold please.”

Enzo turned toward Whitmore who had moved to the other side of the room.

“If you want me to wipe his memory, I want something in return.”

“What?” Whitmore asked, barely paying attention.

“I want five days without you putting your hands on me or Damon. And I want double rations of blood which won’t matter to you if you don’t have to take us out of the cage.”

“I’ll have plenty to keep me busy now that I have Captain Quinn’s blood to test. Agreed. Now finish the compulsion.”

“One more thing. When I go back, I’m to go into the same cell as Damon.”

Now he had Whitmore’s attention. “Interesting.” He approached the bedside. “I have a counter proposal. 6 days off, triple rations but each in your own cell. OR double ration, same cell for 2 days.”

Ouch. That hurt. “Same cell, 3 days and I’ll be a willing participant in that little game you keep suggesting.”

“Deal,” said Whitmore. “Now finish up.”

“How can you trust him?” This from Quinn who was fighting weakly against the straps.

“The one odd thing about the good Doctor, he does keep his word when it counts. Bit of mutual trust in this torturer – torturee relationship.” Enzo turned his attention back to Allen. “Hello, me again back in your brain. Why don’t you go unstrap your strapping young friend and bring him over here before he hurts himself?”

Allen did it without question. Quinn had little fight left in him, so he went where he was led, back to Enzo’s bedside.

“Now then, oh distant of relative of mine, listen to my voice. You’re going to follow instructions until you leave this building. Then you’re going to return home by car or whatever means you used to get here. And you won’t remember anything that happened here. What you will remember is that the entire trip was just a . . . “ He paused, “What word did you want me to use?”

“Hoax,” said Whitmore.

“Hoax,” Enzo repeated. “All a hoax. Nothing to worry about.” Then he shifted his eyes back to Allen. “Did you hear all of that? Applies to you, too. Home, forget, hoax. Got it?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent. My work here is done.”

“And I’ll keep up my end of the bargain. Let me get them on their way and you can start your vacation.”

Whitmore asked the two men to walk out of the lab. As Quinn passed he said, “he really does look like you, Enzo.”

“Hope it does him more good than it ever did me. Hurry back.”

Then all three men left the vampire alone with his thoughts.

 

 

“Do you need to see a doctor before we get on the plane?”

“What?” Quinn reached for his cigarette, but it was a burned-out stub. He picked up his coffee cup. Empty. He was about to call for Faye to bring him a fresh cup when he realized that he wasn’t in the office. He was in a diner, sitting sideways in the booth with his legs on the seat. Impolite, but he had this nagging feeling that he shouldn’t sit with his back to the other patrons. Sitting this way, he could see anyone who might approach.

He rubbed his neck.

“There. That. What’s wrong with your neck?” asked Allen. He was almost finished with the sandwich on his plate, but Quinn’s plate was untouched.

“Nothing’s wrong with my neck. I just have this monster of a headache.”

“That’s weird.” Allen chomped on half a pickle.

“What’s weird?”

“The way you said the word ‘monster’. Like there was a ‘u’ instead of an ‘o’. Like with a British accent.”

Quinn made a face at him. “Can we talk about all the words you pronounce weird.” He picked up his rare hamburger and the sight of it turned his stomach. He put it back down. “It was just a hoax, right?”

“Of course. Just a hoax. We need to do a better job vetting these cases before we fly halfway across the country.” Were they halfway across the country?

Quinn dipped a bundle of five French Fries into the ketchup on his plate. He brought the bundle to his mouth and four made it in. The fifth broke and fell leaving a trail of ketchup down his lips, chin and shirt. “Shit. Can you hand me a napkin.” He looked up at Hynek, hand outstretched and the look Allen was giving him sent a chill down his spine. Allen looked down at the palms of his hands.

“Is this a dream?”

“Probably,” said Quinn. “Would make as much sense as everything else swimming around in my head.” He snagged a stack of napkins from the holder then used it to wipe his face and shirt. “We should go. Your turn to pay.” Quinn slid out of the booth and headed for the door. Allen got up too, stuffed his hand into his pocket for his money clip but felt something else. He pulled it from his pocket.

A bloody piece of gauze.

Palms bleeding. Quinn bleeding. A lab. A cell. A man.

“Doc! Come on.” Quinn’s clipped shout drove the flashes from his mind.

_Home, forget, hoax. Got it?_

Crazy. There were no such things as vampires.

What he needed was a short vacation.

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> When I realized the Enzo and Damon "the cell" storyline was set in the early 50's, I had to do a Blue Book crossover. It's a little wacky but I think it works!


End file.
